Free I, Spy? by Kate Johnson

probably faint if I did.”
    This was completely and very sadly true. I couldn’t even remember the last time I went on a date. Some time before Pete-the-philanderer, the one who was porking the tart at college. Actually, no, I think it was Pete-the-philanderer. There’d really been no one else. And to be honest, I still wasn’t entirely sure why there was him. He was a bit of a loser. I think I was just so overjoyed that someone wanted me and I wasn’t going to end up on the shelf at the tender age of nineteen that I said yes almost before he’d finished asking me out.
    God, now I sounded really sad. I mean, I met men. I liked men. I flirted with them all the time at work. But since Pete I’d had very high standards. Losers need not apply.
    Which did sort of rule out pretty much every bloke I meet, apart from the fantabulous ones who only looked at you if you’re rich, size six and so glossy they could see their own reflections.
    A bit like Angel, really, but she was a sweetheart and honestly hardly noticed men falling at her feet most of the time, plus she lent me her vintage jewellery so I couldn’t really fault her.
    Luke was still looking at me.
    “You keep your family and your love-life separate?”
    I cleared my throat. “Yeah, that’s it. The family is more important. Really important.”
    “So if you turn up alone and they ask where I am…?”
    “I’ll say you were the plumber or something.” I managed a little shrug and just for a second allowed myself the fantasy of letting Luke into my parents’ house. My mother would have a heart attack. Luke was all cheekbones and penetrating eyes and tight muscle. He was sort of lean-bodied, with long legs and a great arse.
    Not that I spent a lot of time looking, you understand. Just every second he was turned away from me.
    I threw some clean underwear in a bag and added my new secret agent extras…cuffs, defence spray, Kevlar, rape alarm… just overnight things, really. In case the psycho who mangled Chris happened to follow us.
    I walked past Tammy’s food bowl and was struck by a horrible thought.
    “What?” Luke said, looking impatient.
    “Tammy. Have you seen her?”
    “Who?”
    “The cat! Have you seen her since we got back?”
    My heart was beating in double time. Little Tammy! What if someone took her and hurt her? My poor little abused baby!
    “She’ll be out on the prowl somewhere,” Luke said. “You have a cat flap.”
    I nodded, trying to believe him. She was a rescue cat and people had done horrible things to her when she was a kitten. Even now she was terrified of strangers.
    “Actually, that’s sort of a security risk,” Luke began, but I gave him a death look. I ran to the door, box of Go-Cat in hand, shaking the biscuits and yelling Tammy’s name. What if she’d got run over? I knew I shouldn’t have brought her with me when I was moving so close to the main road. What if she was hurt?
    What if someone had taken her and was torturing her?
    Oh God, what if…?
    And then I heard the most marvellous sound, a fabulous, magical sound. I heard the gentle tinkle of the bell on Tammy’s collar that was supposed to warn squirrels that she was coming, but of course never did.
    “Tammy! Hello, baby.” I dropped the Go-Cat and made a grab for her but Tammy, the wriggly little thing, escaped and started capturing stray biscuits.
    I straightened up and turned to see Luke standing in the middle of the sitting room, shaking his head at me.
    “Somehow I don’t think your cat is going to be an easy target,” he said.
    “How do you know?”
    “She just ran away from you.”
    I scowled and opened the hall cupboard for Tammy’s travelling basket. She absolutely hated the thing, and I didn’t blame her, because I probably wouldn’t like to be locked into a wire cage only three inches bigger than me (and Tammy was a really tiny tabby). I lined it with an old towel and went back outside to pick her up.
    I just said she was a wriggly